


Moreover

by ScienceMachine



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: 'cause crackfic, Anxiety, Dick Jokes, Gallows Humor, Gen, Local moron tries to write intelligently, Not Beta Read, Out of Character, Panic Attacks, Pseudo-Intellectualism, Stream of Consciousness, Suicidal Thoughts, Suspension Of Disbelief, and also too many references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27803572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScienceMachine/pseuds/ScienceMachine
Summary: He put the blond wig and fake padlock on, to their amusement.“You look like Kurt Cobain, Ryuuzaki!” Chirped the all-so-annoying Matsuda. The child-man's voice drooling on sweetness.That was too sweet, even by his standards. His ice cream had a probability of 60% to be puked onto the floor.Ew.“Never knew,” the detective monotoned.Life raped us all.In which L cosplays a grunge singer and Light rediscovers his poetic prowess.Hilarity ensues.
Relationships: L & Yagami Light
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Moreover

> "Crime. What's the antonym of crime? This is a hard one."
> 
> "The law, of course," Horikiri answered flatly.
> 
> - _No Longer Human, Osamu Dazai._

Boringness could not kill you, it was a proven fact.

Boringness and a gun against your fucking head? That _could_ kill you _._

Those thoughts were transgressing L's headspace as he was sitting near his computer.

The reason behind his rather _unprofessional_ thoughts was — rather awkwardly, rather subconsciously — mirroring him in all minus the visible and obvious motions that people often used to identificate with.

Like, for example, putting on a tranquil face when you were _so done_ with today in general to even desire a little break for life. A huge break if you were honest with yourself, and Lawliet, the silly human, was one of those who appreciated self truth most of the time.

Hence the reverie.

Yes, his introspection was indeed pleasant. He meant, when the population was composed of righteousness, emotional drama, and superficial thinking you probed, and failed, and lost motion of.

S.O.S, emphatically dissociated above-average intelligent individual once more found itself confused by nugatory _noise_. Please give it a pillow and strawberry ice cream thus letting it maintain the archaic tradition of crying oneself to sleep.

In the midst of his absurd inner monologue, L took notice of the triviality of the environment in which he found himself. It is not as if a genius is needed to deduce the obvious; the investigation had already reached its peak and, upon discovering the Death Note and thereby stumbling upon the deadliest weapon in the history of mankind, the team assumed that it was about to reach its end. A mass murderer who could simply renounce the memories of his actions — renounce the most fundamental evidence — made finding Kira, or Kiras, virtually impossible. The cursed book could go from owner to owner and it was not preposterous to assume that finding people with the same ideals was the next logical step to avoid the law, the chances of arresting a suspect with that in mind were depressing.

Of course Soichiro, as the righteous man he is, will give his life to find the culprit, which of course is not his golden boy _thank you very much_. The killer must be someone ruthless, sickly minded, not afraid to experiment with people's lives as if the real world, the others, was an entertaining game. How can anyone even consider committing a crime? No one in their right mind disobeys the law as it was made to bring justice to this world, it was nurtured and shaped so that this type of vigilantism was incapable of even existing, to serve the masses — the winners in reality, but who was Lawliet to destroy the utopian fantasy of another moron?

After all, Yagami Soichiro would never suspect that the tragedy of Kira lies in his disconnection from that world. Social creatures such as humans cannot spend years without any significant contact and expect to maintain a dash of mental health.

To the utter vanity of it all, Matsuda began to move awkwardly in his chair, trying to appear professional and not like the bangs under his eyes from late nights talking to Misa Misa existed in the first place. Suddenly, the enthusiastic detective rose from his seat.

"I'm going to rest," he said on his way to a room with an actual bed.

Moji took the opportunity to sneak out into a coffee odyssey. Aizawa simply observed everything with an unfriendly face, crearly judging the lack of ethics and hard work like a good cop. L, seeing how his fellow somnambulist was shamed by the fact that he had nothing better to do, looked for a pink palette among his collection of sweets, a balloon-shaped one, and as expected, the grouchy man soon contented himself with some vision of his beloved family.

Simply put, they were idiots.

With corpses behind him, Light Yagami was having a beautiful day after recovering his ( _I’m the God of the New World_ ) memories. The headquarters were as spacious as expected, the floor was white and immaculate, the computers gave a unique glow on the face of the one who dared to stop _him_ , the cameras recorded the boring life of Misa Amane before her release, the apple-shaped candy in the mouth of his rival was so _fake_ that it was even _laughable_ , and the chairs are still chairs.

Light was not a creature of regret, or to bemoan obsessively over the unfairness of the whole. He lived vicariously through his own sock and buskin while retaining enough protagonism to not fall into despair, in the form of a severe mental illness. And so, in the guise of helping L escape from his virtuous venture into discussing dumb idiots into something resembling rational thinking, he decided to ignore all social happenings at the moment. It was a helping hand, not a way to escape the boringness and procrastinate a mental breakdown away. Not at all.

Perfect people _are_ considerate.

In his marvelous mind — his child self used to call it ‘waste precious time land’, Light did feel very close to embarrassment once in a bluemoon—, his thoughts decided to reflect reality in all its boringly entertaining glory. From the ethical dilemmas of how much time he has stolen from the most convenient of victims to give a new direction to his poorly wasted life (more than one hundred of his lives put together and all for a laughable infinitesimal infinite of entertainment and self-destructive delusions on moral ground grandeur) to Matsuda’s, longer than usual, absence. It also decided to focus brainpower on the important facts and problems such as calculating the number of licks necessary to finish the apple of Adam and Eve or how isolation is torture on the creative thinker ( _Killing humans is in bad taste_ ), the barely perceptible quickening of his breath ( _My hands are trembling_ ), that he needed to stop thinking and to ( _Abort abandonment anxiety_ ) stare unblinkingly at L.

And to compulsively think that, perhaps, ( _I wish the game could last forever_ ) mentally perpetuating a moment is also a magnificent experience in a life of falsehood and loneliness. Was the detective _mirroring_ him? ( _I’m bored and lonely_ ). To blink, regain his senses, and conclude that everything comes to an end and thus —

Moving on.

L saw the young man procrastinating with his thoughts, like himself, and felt unnerved. Then he saw the other people in the room and felt maybe disgruntled, maybe sad, maybe exasperated, maybe on the epitome of the havens and looking into the abism and questioning _‘why are you all so blind?’_.

Should he try another auto-reminiscent question with the last most important elements?

Yes, and maybe answering will prove difficult enough to persuade the boringness to leave.

(Nothing was ever brave nor clever enough to stare back)

Nodding in a manner that made him sick, he began.

Why did he _felt_ like this was going to be a great idea?

Oh, right.

Using your heart will get you far boy.

Ugh. Hm.

Well, there existed the _unlikely_ theory that many minds together could help one’s thought process. Ideas are an economy in and of themselves.

That was the reason he was so literal. To be precise, the former and to let them think he was some kind of socially awkward creature— they needed to feel superior in some kind of way after all— who could not for the life of him understand normal human behaviour.

But he _understood_ , and was _bored_ of it.

He huffed as he got out of the chair, the sound limited to the moment he landed.

Light rose an eyebrow from across the room. Oh, please, he did get L. It was obvious.

_He never huffed_.

“I am bored” Announced Lawliet, a dangerous flicker in his eye, “How about we play twenty questions?”

**Author's Note:**

> this was born from a 2am reading of Ray’s not so great criticism of a kind of racist dude and getting the distinct feeling someone was rolling in their grave. and maybe a caffeine induced acid trip of humongous proportions, with dumb by nirvana and light’s theme as background music.  
> then i wrote enough conflicting nonsense philosophies to make an evangelion under the, again, caffeine induced idea of making a pretentious fanfic thesis. that got so long I had to divide it in chapters.  
> hence, the pseudo-intellectualism tag.  
> idk why i feel the need to justify my crackfic version of shitposting - is this what redundancy looks like?- but, oh well, i hope this gets a laugh out of someone.  
> just laugh it off, imma embarrassed as it is.


End file.
